


last of the elvhenan

by sephet



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fantasy Racism, Found Family, Lavellan (Dragon Age) Backstory, Multi, Non-Canonical Backstory, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Recovery, Slavery, Trans Male Character, elves on an adventure, lavellan siblings au, ships are endgame but slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sephet/pseuds/sephet
Summary: Three elves with the name of Lavellan fight for the Inquisition; one stands tall and leads from the front, one stays to the shadows and does what must be done, and one inspires ancient beings into movement.I have decided to write the tales of my Lavellan family, mostly before and after Inquisition, with little snippets in between.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, The Iron Bull/Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. the tevinter border

**Author's Note:**

> Current time is 9:37 Dragon, DA2 is just ending in Kirkwall and Hawke is a mage siding with other mages, the Hero of Ferelden is a Dalish elf who survived slaying the Archdemon.

Saffron had been sold to the Makris family as an infant. It was unlikely she had ever known freedom, being an elf born in Tevinter basically guaranteed a life of slavery. The Makris family had learned they would be having an heir, and they had bought the elf girl with intentions of being a companion to their new baby.

It had been seventeen years since Mihael had been born, and she’d been by his side for most of it. Though while he was schooling in magic to do his family proud, she’d been training in the killing arts. It would only make sense for the slave that accompanied their son everywhere to know how to defend him. Now she knew how to wield a blade and a bow with deadly accuracy, and Mihael could summon the elements seemingly at will. 

He had upset his father, though. He’d discovered the joys of gambling dens and brothel beds and at no point was Saffron actually supposed to stop him from destroying himself, just keep him from dying in the process. To regain his father’s good graces and hopefully his place in the will, Mihael had set off to make an important purchase at the border. Saffron, of course, accompanied him.

“You’re late!” The youth demanded with arms crossed, feeling comfortable that either magecraft or Saffron would protect him from some slaver’s retribution. For now the slavers seemed to be of a similar opinion.

Mihael had ridden out to meet with the pair in the middle of the night, disguised as a laetan on a mission with a slave. They hadn’t drawn any attention, they were both plain enough, and while Saffron couldn’t hide her elven features completely, she kept her hood up and her head down and no one really cared about an elven slave very much. They’d met out of town, at a camping spot it seemed was rarely frequented by actual travelers. The slavers _had_ been late, but it was poor manners to begin a business deal in such a way.

“You’ll forgive us, your Magister, ser.” The man’s accent gave him away as Ferelden just as swiftly as his words did. It was a small wonder when Saffron noticed the dog laying by the fire. Its ears were up, betraying its easy pose, it was paying attention. “It was difficult to get.”

“And yet you assured my father that it could be done.” Mihael snapped, and Saffron watched the brief calculation flash over the Ferelden man’s face. _He_ hadn’t been aware Mihael was the House Makris heir, and somehow that changed things.

“And it could! We got it for you. An elven mage. _And_ a young one! Looks a lot like your pretty friend back there.” He was more confident now. Not a lot, he hadn’t changed the subject but his shoulders lifted and his smile became more earnest.

“Then why do I not see it?” Mihael didn’t seem to exactly notice that the Ferelden’s demeanor changed, but he responded to having something more positive to talk to.

The Ferelden gestured to his partner, who had stayed near the cart. She was a massive Tal Vashoth woman and when she picked up the elven girl in the cart it was a struggle to get the girl to walk. The size difference was extreme and the elf girl seemingly made a last ditch effort at escape; kicking out at the woman only to have the chain between her wrists yanked, pulling her off balance to tumble to the ground. After a moment of struggling the woman had her up and moving forward, towards the group of them. 

It didn’t take long for Saffron to understand what was wrong. The girl was Dalish. Her face was freshly marked with their fancy looping face tattoos. Even if she was young, elven and a mage -- which Saffron could only assume based on the Ferelden’s assertion-- her being Dalish marked her as illegal as soon as anyone saw her. The Dalish didn’t come to Tevinter, or sell themselves into slavery. The nomadic tribes rarely came north and so the legal markets almost never sold Dalish elves. There was no way to keep this girl or sell her forward. Even Mihael knew this.

“What good is a marked Dalish to me? It may as well be branded as the Archon’s!” He cast out his hands in disgust and the Tal Vashoth woman flinched slightly. It seemed it was an instinct. Mihael was not casting anything, though, the staff remained strapped to his back. He simply gestured wildly when he was emotional, he always had.

“Very simple cosmetic magic--” The Ferelden began but Mihael turned away with disgust.

“Mihael.” She said softly as she came to his side, she had permission to use his given name and somehow that seemed both informal and a forced intimacy that made her skin itch.

“I _can’t_ go home with nothing.” Mihael growled to her, bringing his fingers to his lips to chew the nails with nervous agitation. “Father would never forgive me… but _branded_?”

Saffron felt like she was supposed to give advice about this, but as he’d spoken her eyes had moved to the Dalish girl. Her skin was a dark tan, both from birth and from the kiss of the sun, her hair was a messy length of copper and her ears pointed out through the locks. She could understand the comparison between herself and the girl, a little. Saffron’s skin was pale and lotioned by Mihael’s demand, but her hair was her namesake and a dark crimson red, but with more sun it could be like the Dalish’s hair. 

“Mana. Ma halani.” The girl looked back at her after a moment, but Saffron didn’t speak elvish. She could guess, given the context, but there was nothing Saffron could do about either of their situations.

“The cosmetic damage is severe and therefore diminishes the price significantly.” Mihael turned back to the slavers who seemed unsurprised by the demand.

“Of course, a discount is surely something we can work out…” The Fereleden continued and Saffron stopped paying attention to that. 

It was easy enough to tune out the bartering, she turned her attention back to the girl. She was being sold into the Makris service, so they would probably see some of each other when Mihael was back home. It was probably hard to catch a mage, weren’t the Dalish supposed to stick together and look out for each other? Would this girl’s clan come for her? It was unlikely. Bringing the clan this far north would just get them captured in turn. It would mean one less mouth to feed at the fire, if elves were as poor in the south as she’d been led to believe then maybe it was a relief to lose the extra weight. She wore a nightshirt, just long enough to keep her modesty, but now that Saffron looked there was blood on her inner thigh. Monthles seemed less likely than a Ferelden problem.

The girl seemed to realise that Saffron could not help her and began to gather herself, there was an instant of static in the air and she screamed her rage and pain as her cuffs lit up with lightning. She almost seemed to sizzle as she collapsed to her knees and panted for breath, shuddering with pain and exertion.

“The fuck I tell you about magic?” The Ferelden snapped, turning back to the captive and dragging her up just so he could slap her hard and drop her back down.

The Tal Vashoth woman crouched down and reached to touch the chain as if to check the temperature before dragging her back up to her feet.

“I’ll kill you.” The girl gritted through her teeth despite her trembling. “I’ll feed you your rotten fucking teeth and then I’ll feed you to your fucking dog.”

She caught another hard slap and a yank on her chain which silenced her, but it changed the way Saffron thought of the girl. She was used to being powerful, wasn’t she? She held lightning in her hands. Saffron had seen plenty of magecraft in her life, Tevinter lived and thrived on magic, any mage was likely used to feeling some power over those without. Everything had been stripped from this girl, and she bore fangs. Maybe Saffron could help her settle into service.

“She should come with a discount for the _mouth_ on her.” Mihael grumbled as he looked the skinny elf over.

“You’d have to sew the mouth shut like them Qunari mages to get a Dalish to shut up.” The Ferelden wasn’t as clever as he thought he was, if he thought joking about a Saarebas to a Tevinter mage was funny. Might as well bring up his own people’s Tranquil now to finish the insult. “There weren’t no part of the deal about temperament”

Mihael’s brows knit together as his disgust for the practice showed, but he did seem slightly considerate. Saffron would have liked to consider the practice in general as abhorrent, but seemingly it wasn’t _as_ bad when it was an elf being put to it. She didn’t bother to let it hurt her this time, she had taken so many small cuts like this in her life her skin had hardened to them. 

“A simple charm would serve the same purpose.” Mihael finally straightened, though Saffron realised she’d been studying his reaction so closely but little time had passed in his consideration. There was no conflict in his face as he made a quick gesture and cast a spell to encase the girl in silence. 

He’d done it wrong, though, Saffron realised as Mihael and the Fereldan began to speak coin, rather than just making her voice silent he’d made her whole self silent. Though her heart beat and her lungs drew in air and her fingers scrambled against the ground she could not hear them. Could not hear at all as her sharp ears could not make sound. Saffron could see the panic overtaking the Dalish girl. She tried to scream and grasped desperately at her body as if to make sure it was still there. 

The Tal-Vashoth woman had noticed, but like many of the ox men she was unmoved by a mage’s plight. Or perhaps it was a slave’s plight? Either way, Saffron knew from her own experience with the spell that recovery for a youth would be difficult, and the longer the panic was allowed to grow the worse the recovery would be. She didn’t dare interrupt negotiations though, as Mihael laid out the magical nature of Dalish blood writing making it more difficult to remove than a common mole. 

She walked over to the girl and knelt down before her, though the Tal-Vashoth woman protested. 

“A moment, please? I must investigate her for my Master.” She spoke softly and reached out to draw the other elf’s face towards hers. She didn’t bother to speak as the other girl could not hear, but she connected their gazes and held her face firmly.

It seemed to confuse the girl more than anything, but it broke the spiral of her panic effectively enough. After a moment’s breath, Saffron took the girl’s hands in her own and turned them over, investigating the callouses from rough work and staff practice. The nails were chipped and dirty, skin dry and well weathered despite her still being a girl, seemingly the Dalish did not practice regular hygiene, and she would have to be taught as much. The girl’s wrists were badly burned under the shackles, which was a simple healing spell away from solved but it was another thing that needed to be done to make her presentable. Some families dressed their slaves in rags, but the Makris family was of the opinion that if they had to look at their slaves, they should be pretty things to look at. Creams would help soften this girl’s skin, spells might fix her marked face, but Saffron couldn’t tell if the hair was a lost cause or not. It was unwashed and starting to mat from poor attention. The Lady of the house enjoyed long luxurious hair on her female slaves and attendants, it would be unfortunate to have to cut it off. Upon further inspection she did not seem to have any insects or parasites living in it, so it was likely the hair could be oiled and combed into place. The girl’s eyes were an amber brown and there was bruising fading around them, her strong elven nose slightly flattened by a strong blow somewhere along the way. 

Carefully Saffron examined the girl’s legs; strong and solidly threaded with muscle. They said that the Dalish ran through the trees like their fancy deer, Saffron could imagine someone with legs like this running freely for hours. She would have to say something, most mages didn’t build their body in such a way and this girl could take advantage of people being prepared for her to be physically frail. The blood on her thighs was dried, though Saffron doubted the Makris family was looking to have a mage as a bed slave, so it didn’t matter who had been there before. All that would matter would be if she was with child, but there were always ways of dealing with that. Saffron was glad that she had not had to learn about them personally, and hoped a bit this girl didn’t have to either.

Looking back up to the elven girl’s face she caught a steady gaze, her panic had passed for all the silence was still laid upon her. She looked clearly in Saffron’s face and Saffron felt a pang of familiarity. This girl was no more like her than any other elf she had met, except this one had been born free. In a brief moment of shared gaze and breath, Saffron felt a hole drop out of her very identity. If the Hero of Ferelden were not Dalish himself, Saffron would have assumed the Dalish truly were a wishful myth made by elves longing for freedom. Free elves didn’t exist in Tevinter, but this girl lived and breathed and knew what it meant to run through the trees like a fancy little deer. 

“Well, ser, if we can’t agree on a price, maybe we should bring your lord father into it, eh?” The Ferelden finally said, leaning back and breaking Saffron’s swirling mind. 

“I do not need to contact my father to tell you that your price is an insult.” Mihael scoffed. 

“It’s what your father and I agreed on.”

“ _For_ an unmarked elf. Not _this_.” Mihael gestured to the elf and finally seemed to notice his mistake in the silencing spell, dismissing it with a huff. 

“I’ll give you the night to think about it, then maybe I’ll contact your father myself.” The Ferelden finally said before returning to the fire with his dog.

“Saffron. Here.” Mihael indicated for Saffron to come as he turned away in a huff.

As Saffron was getting to her feet the Dalish girl grabbed her arm and in a rough voice said,  
“We are the last of the Elvhenan.” before she was pulled back by the Tal-Vashoth woman who then began to drag her away. “ _Never again_ shall we submit!” 

Saffron watched her be pulled away a moment longer before she returned to her Master’s side, heart beating fast and fingers trembling. She tucked her hands into her sleeves to hide the slight shivering as she desperately forced deep calming breaths. There was no reason for this to affect her, if this affected her then she couldn’t do her job, she couldn’t be clear when dealing with other slave trades in the future.

“Make camp,” Mihael ordered as he began to untangle one of his saddlebags. 

Saffron did as she was bid, and swiftly Mihael had secluded himself within, Saffron had sat by the fire and watched the slavers make camp as well. There wasn’t much left to the night, the sky had been starting to glow slightly with the rising sun when she’d heard the soft cries from the other camp and turned into the tent as well. 

Saffron sat silently at Mihael’s bed as he slept fitfully on the rocky ground. He was being stubborn, refusing to contact his father and stewing rather than making a proper plan. She watched the man she had been raised to protect sleep with a wrinkled brow, his own arrogance keeping him camped out rather than comfortably at an inn. 

She often, to pass the time, would take out her knives to carefully clean them of all blood or grime. He didn’t stir as she drew the dagger from her belt, and had no time to react once she’d slid the knife into his throat, her other hand clasping tight over his mouth.


	2. minanter river -- hasmal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saffron and her new companion start the journey from the Tevinter border to Starkhaven and she learns a little bit about the mysterious Dalish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: non-malicious misgendering 
> 
> Saffron doesn't know or understand, but we can, and Elias has his reasons

The Ferelden’s Mabari had torn apart the man’s leg. 

The Tal-Vashoth woman had been warrior bred, like most of the ox-men that crossed the shores, and she made Saffron fight for every inch. The campsite was bloody with their fight, but in the end Saffron had managed to slice open the woman’s throat. The fight had been long and painful and ultimately she’d feared pointless, as they’d surely alerted her partner to the betrayal.

But she needn’t have worried, the man’s throat had been crushed with the chains holding the elven girl’s shackles together. Seemingly with the dog’s help she’d managed to get the upper hand on him. 

The girl was still fighting to get her breath, her lips curled back in a snarl as much as a grin and she laughed with a hoarse and broken voice, finally she screamed in a way that seemed to shake the Fade itself. Like something unleashed. When she had finished she got to her feet, strong muscle bunching under bruised flesh, she was a mess no matter how anyone looked at her, but she stood tall, with strength and purpose. 

“We can’t go back from here.” Saffron felt herself saying, finally admitting what was true. She could not go back from here. House Makris would likely hunt her for this. For what felt like the first time in her life she made a choice all her own, and it had been to cut her lifeline. 

“We’ll find my clan.” The Dalish girl had a thick accent, not Fereldan like Saffron had assumed, not quite Antivan either. She’d never heard it, but maybe it was Dalish. If they were real, then their language and their accent was real and its own. “They’ve surely searched.”

She had more faith in her clan than Saffron did, but perhaps it was hard to believe that her family would abandon her. Saffron hadn’t known a family before, she did not have faith like that in anyone.

“Find the keys for your shackles, I’ll find supplies and we’ll take the horses south.” Was all Saffron could think to say before she returned to her site to pack their supplies back up and rebridle the horses. She pulled some of Mihael’s spare robes out of his bags and carried them back to the Dalish girl’s tent. They would be loose on her, but Saffron only had her armor and the Ferelden and Tal-Vashoth slavers were both far too large to have clothing that fit. 

When she found the girl she was stroking the dog’s fur, wrists still shackled as she stared off to the horizon. Saffron knew that she was suffering, that she needed time, but neither of them had it. 

“I told you to find the key to those.” Saffron said with a frown as she put the clothes down beside her.

“They’re magic. They don’t have a key.” The girl explained as she slowly turned her attention to picking apart the offered robes and pulling the dirty nightshirt off of her back. She seemed so skinny, did they not eat in Dalish clans? Saffron knew she was strong, it didn’t make sense for her to seem so frail. “They draw on my magic to direct it back at me. Only another mage can remove them.”

Another mage like Mihael, if he’d been alive still. Saffron felt like the world was tilting and she was about to fall off. “Do your people have other mages? We can’t go back into Tevinter, we’d be executed or worse…” What had she done?

“They are your people too.” The girl stated, finding herself at a loss as her chains prevented her from changing. Even Saffron should have noticed that, and she felt foolish. It didn’t take long though, for them to find a large rock to smash open the chains, leaving her only with the manacles around her wrists to control her magic. “My Keeper will know what to do.” 

She drew the horses towards them and held out the reins to the elven girl. “We won’t find much safe refuge in Nevarra…”

“My clan is in the Free Marches. We were fair foolish to get ourselves so far north, but if we follow the river to Starkhaven…” The girl took the reins and reached to stroke the horse’s nose familiarizing it with her smell. “What’s your name?”

For a moment Saffron thought she was asking the horse and didn’t respond, but she saw the girl’s eyes were on her with a mix of curiosity and fear nearly radiating from her gaze.

“Saffron.”

It took the girl a moment to process that. She didn’t seem sure she would respond at first but finally she stated, “My name is Elias.” She seemed to expect it to mean something, but Saffron had no idea how elven or even southern names worked. 

“We… we should get moving, Elias.” Saffron nodded, slightly confused and lost in her position in the world. 

*

The dog had stayed beside the body of its owner. While it had helped Elias kill him, it still seemed to want to be loyal in death. They didn’t have the means to care for a Mabari war hound, so they left it to lie with the bodies.

At Elias’ urging Saffron had stripped the bags from the horses and left them at a frequented outpost once they made it to the river. She said that there were two human settlements between them and Starkhaven along the Minanter river. When asked why she knew so much of human settlements Elias had laughed at Saffron.

“It is a constant fight to be free. We learn what the shemlen do and we avoid them.” When asked what a shemlen was, she shook her head and muttered, “Creators, I don’t know why I expected them to let you know any of our words. A shemlen, or a shem, is a human.”

Since then, as they walked through the river to throw off their trail, Elias had been describing her Dalish customs. So far Saffron had liked quite a bit the way of the arrow, it felt a lot like how she had adapted to her violent duties. To be straightforward, quick and merciful in death. Mihael had not had time to be truly afraid, it was the least she could do, when she was supposed to take care of him.

Her stomach hurt to think of it. 

Elias had bathed once they’d found a calm nook behind some trees, it seemed to be where the Hasmal Circle did washing on nice days, there were scraps of soap and a discarded rag that she took advantage of. Saffron too, did her best to scrub the blood from herself. If it wasn’t such good armor she’d have simply cast it off, but instead as she listened to Elias muffle whimpers behind splashes of water Saffron did her best to scrub her armor. 

She didn’t know how to comfort the other girl, it seemed more likely that anything she said would make Elias more upset. They had a long way to go together, and Elias deserved some time to herself.

“You said you had a god of vengeance?” Saffron asked once they began their journey again. It wouldn’t be safe to be near a Circle for longer than they absolutely had to. Templars were known to hunt Dalish mages, seemingly, despite a general understanding that an elf with a clan is not an apostate. 

“Elgar’nan.” Elias answered, once washed she’d begun to pick apart the matted knots of copper hair tangled up on her head. It had not been Dalish poor hygiene, but rather the poor hygiene of a caught slave. Saffron felt a pang of guilt for her jump to judgement when she should have known better. “He was the first, born when the sun first touched the earth. But when the earth gifted him with the many wonders the earth had to give, his father the sun became jealous and burned all her gifts away. In his rage Elgar’nan threw him down from the sky and into the Abyss.”

Saffron frowned at that, glancing up at the sunlight, almost blisteringly hot reflected against the water. She knew her too-pampered skin was going to burn and peel, the Lady would have been so angry with her for the blotchy redness.

Elias laughed earnestly, as if she were accustomed to teaching, and receiving strange questions, or questioning glances. “We have the sun to bless us now because Mythal, the goddess of _Justice_ came to him and convinced him to show mercy. Now the sun may rise every day, but must set at night. Together with his parents and Mythal, Elgar’nan rebuilt the world.”

“I don’t understand, if Elgar’nan was the first, where did Mythal come from?” Saffron couldn’t help herself asking. There was a bubbling feeling in her chest when she thought about there being a god of vengeance. Was that the god Elias prayed to when she killed the Fereldan? Or Mythal?

“Mythal came from the seas. Walking out of the water to cool Elgar’nan’s temper with a just hand.” Elias answered, though Saffron had no way of knowing which god Elias prayed to. It seemed they didn’t listen any more closely than the Maker. “And she created the moon as a pale shadow of the sun to rise during the night.”

“Which moon?” Saffron asked after taking a long moment to think on that.

“You know… I never thought to ask.” Elias looked older now that she was walking on her own. Her voice had taken a deep and husky edge as she spoke casually about her culture, her shoulders back and her head held high. If she hadn’t been skinny, battered and bruised Saffron would have thought Elias was untouched. 

*

“Ah! Finally!” Elias called out and splashed over to shore to where a plant was poking up between the rocks. Pulling up the rocks and digging deep she pulled the thick root out from the ground. “Usually you can’t spit without hitting an elfroot, then when you actually want one?” She laughed dryly and took a bite from the root and chewed thoroughly, eventually spitting out a paste to apply to her wrists. The flesh of them was burnt, scabbing and bloody, growing swollen and red from infection. They must have been excruciating.

“I didn’t realise they had gotten so bad.” Saffron said dumbly as she crouched down to dig more of the roots up and wash them off in the river. A simple health poultice was easy to get, so simple she and Mihael hadn’t bothered to travel with any. She should have searched the slavers’ things more thoroughly. She looked around at the plants growing on the banks and pointed to the multiple wide-leafed spindleweed plants. “Those heal too, right?”

“Creators, I hope I don’t need those.” Elias laughed again and it was almost grating how… _much_ she was being. She was so used to taking up space and speaking to be heard, Saffron felt like they were as different from each other as they were from humans. “Those are a desperate man’s herb, that it might breathe some life back into the dying.”

Saffron nodded, and wondered idly if this was a punishment for feeling so superior when they had met, thinking she would ease a girl into her new life, when in reality she was the girl being led around. She hadn’t felt so childish in a long time. “Do you always chew it?”

Elias looked like she hadn’t been expecting the question and shook her head. “I usually use a mortar and pestle like everyone else.” She said with a raised eyebrow and a curious look. “Of course chewing it is good for stomach problems… but you thought it was a Dalish thing?”

“I don’t know… you popped it in your mouth like a treat.” Saffron huffed with frustration as she realised Elias was teasing her, and her face was already flushed from the sun. “I don’t know anything about the Dalish. Do you think my Masters were keen to teach me about the Free Elves of other places? I _did_ hear rumours that the Antivan Dalish were dangerous, I was told they killed human and ‘flat-ear’ alike.”

Elias seemed to steady slightly, while she’d previously been eyeing Saffron like there was a fun joke she hadn’t told yet, now she seemed more somber. “Flat-ear. I’ve always hated that, but I’ve met a few clans where it’s made a difference. Not all non-Dalish elves would have rescued me, many attack just as shemlen do for fear of guilt by association. It’s not a fight where either side wins.”

“So. So what will your clan do?” Saffron packed the harvested roots into her bag and stood again, avoiding eye contact with the other woman. “To me? As a… flat-ear elf?”

“Why would they do anything to you?” Elias stood as well and they both returned to their trek down river. “You haven’t attacked us. We welcome our brothers and sisters back to us when we can.”

Saffron frowned deeply, they seemed like conflicting ideas. That they might be defensive against outsiders and accepting as well.

“Listen, you rescued me. I may not be the Keeper’s First, but I’m a helpful elf to have around. They’ll be grateful that you brought me home. The rest is up to you.” Elias offered with a dismissive gesture.

“Up to me? Why would--” She felt her blood run cold as the full realization of the situation hit her. Of course they wouldn’t decide what to do with her, they were _Free_ elves. She was alone now. “What should I do?”

“Whatever you want!” Elias cast out her hands as she turned to walk backwards in the river a few seconds so she could grin directly at Saffron. “You’re free now.”

“I don’t know how to be free…” Saffron said, self pityingly. House Makris would surely hunt her once they learned what she’d done. If she’d simply run she might have escaped, but she’d murdered their heir and precious son. Any feuds they’d been having with each other would surely be forgotten in favour of hunting her. She’d robbed them of a chance to reconcile. 

She didn’t have time to wallow too deeply in possibilities when an arrow whistled past her ear and made her spin in place, knives coming out of their sheaths more out of habit than the certainty of danger. She’d been so disoriented since Elias had been brought out of the cart. 

A human woman stood at the banks of the river, crossbow held in trembling hands. “Get out! Get out and take your blighted curses! We didn’t ask for no elf business, so get on with you!” She seemed almost panicked, and Saffron thought back to the stories she’d heard of Antivan Dalish. They were still close to Antiva… 

“Please, please we’re on our way now.” Elias seemed calm, cheerful even as she backed up through the water, deeper into the river and away from the woman. She might have been fine, too if she hadn’t been walking backwards. Her bare feet slid on the slick stones and she lost her footing, falling backwards into the river with a flurry of hands. Perhaps, if she had not been wearing Mihael’s mage robes, she wouldn’t have appeared as if she was trying to cast but as it was the woman on the banks screamed in panic and let loose a bolt.

Saffron was moving before she could think. She wasn’t so broken that she’d forgotten everything she knew about defense. She’d been the only enemy she’d failed to protect Mihael from in the end, and somewhere along the way Elias had become like her new charge. She managed to slice the bolt and deflect it with her dagger, but as an instinctual follow up she threw with her other hand. The knife embedded in the woman’s chest drawing a pained cry. 

Elias grabbed her from behind, soaking wet from her fall and wild-eyed with fear. “We have to run. Now. Don’t stop.” 

That Elias had been so calm about everything else, and so afraid of this pushed Saffron to move. She didn’t stop to consider her lost dagger, she followed her companion into the water and ran as best she could to put distance between the two of them with the body. _This is why most slaves can’t own weapons._ She thought, as the woman’s dying cries were drowned out by the rushing water. She had been granted permission as a guard, but now House Makris would surely regret that decision. What would become of their other elves? Would they be punished for what she had done? The more she acted on instinct and intuition the more she made things difficult for everyone around her. She really couldn’t be trusted to make her own decisions...

An arrow hit her hard in the back, throwing her forward into the water. She didn’t feel the sharp pain of the arrow piercing her armour, but the force felt like a punch knocking the air from her lungs and her arm tingled as she pushed herself out of the water. She choked and gasped as she fought both to breathe and to get back to her feet. Someone had heard the woman’s scream, it seemed, or she was part of a party. There was a man with a longbow in hand wading into the water behind them, his face contorted in fury.. He didn’t need to catch up to them for his weapon to be in range, but Saffron couldn’t throw her dagger that far. He strung another arrow and Saffron tried to guess which of them he would aim for. 

_You always take out the mage first_. She thought in a panic and lunged to put herself between the archer and Elias, the arrow deflecting off her armor as she reached to grab it. On dry ground she might have, she knew how to catch an arrow, she’d trained for it. She wished Elias had never suggested walking in the water. 

“Get out of the water!” She heard Elias cry, and looked up to see the woman gathering herself in a stance, it looked like she was going to try magic. Saffron didn’t even stop to think that it wouldn’t work with the manacles, she ran. It was a comfort to follow orders and not have to plan the next attack. She scrambled through wet river rocks until she had found truly dry land.

She looked back once safe to see Elias grit her teeth and then gather the lightning to her hands and manacles again. She knew she couldn’t cast the spell properly or direct the lightning, so she thrust her hands into the water and shrieked with pain as the magic coursed through her, and also spread through the water to the man with the bow who had nearly lined up another shot. The arrow went wild as the man screamed in pain, collapsing to a knee.

Saffron saw that she was needed and hesitantly stepped back into the water. When it did not shock her she ran to Elias’ side and pulled her up, supporting her weight as they continued to run. It was dangerous to stay on the river, it was as easy to track as a trail if she really thought of it, but it gave them water and plants and possibly fish, it wasn’t worth the risk to run out into the wastes when she wouldn’t know how to navigate. The river led to Starkhaven, and that’s where they needed to go.


	3. minanter river - past tantervale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third and final Lavellan appears and Elias reveals a few secrets

They ran for a long time, and Saffron quickly noticed the grace with which Elias moved when trees began stretching out over the river and providing shade and protection. She always seemed to intuitively know where to put her feet, always nimbly jumping from root to root, while Saffron had to watch her feet and stumble. She was used to being light-footed, but even the rougher roads of Tevinter were more even than the untamed wilds they had been forced to take refuge in. A large tree’s massive roots arced up to make a cave and they huddled within it for what must have been hours. 

She had intended to be alert, and listen for pursuers, but somewhere as morning turned to evening she’d fallen asleep. Now she felt Elias leaning in close to her, either for warmth or for comfort, perfectly still with apprehension. She knew better than to speak, simply reached for her dagger as Elias got slowly to her feet and, with a skill Saffron couldn’t comprehend, went up the rest of the tree.

She had thought so highly of her elven dexterity and nimbleness, but it seemed the Dalish truly were from a different world. 

She eased out of her cave and regretted the loss of one of her daggers, there were people moving in the forest. Humans likely, even she hadn’t been moving so clumsily through the woods, and if she was going to have to fight them with one dagger she was likely going to die. It just wasn’t possible.

A strange call sounded from above her in the tree, clearly Elias’ voice but imitating a wolf’s call, of all things. Saffron could have screamed her rage, Elias had been so wise about everything so far that she had, at no point, considered that the woman would make such an obvious mistake. _Why_?

The answer seemed to come quickly enough as a chill began to fall over the area, thick mist rolling out through the trees. Suddenly her breath hung thick in the air and her still damp armor pricked at her skin. She’d been sweltering in a way she hadn’t really realised until the cold touched her.

Elias dropped from the tree with a wild grin on her face and bolted towards the source of the cold, leaving Saffron to sputter a moment before following as best she could. 

“ _Aneth ara, Lethallan!_ ” 

She heard Elias cry out, but Saffron was lost in the mists and barely following the sound of her companion’s voice. She heard ice crack in the distance and knew that there had to be magic going on, it wasn’t natural to get so cold so fast, or so far north. She stepped suddenly into a slick patch of ice and felt her feet slide out from under her. She knew how to fall without hurting herself, even still it knocked her prone and she slid forward until she knocked into a rising figure, it was encased in ice and when she looked it was a man with a sword. 

Getting to her feet gingerly she could only hear the snapping and uneasy crackling from the icy field. There were a few men with weapons here, all frozen in place in different poses of attack. This had been their hunting party. None of them wore armor and all of them had the boxy body of labourers. She stood transfixed in this field of ice. She’d seen plenty of magic, but this was the south, did it mean a Tevinter hunter had intervened? If so they would be in so much more trouble than she could even imagine. How would they fight hunters from Tevinter? With Elias shackled and Saffron nearly disarmed and them both stumbling sleep deprived and hungry through the woods. 

She wanted to be sick, but she heard Elias’ voice ahead and it was joyful. Saffron followed carefully until through the brush she found Elias talking animatedly to someone in a cloak. 

“Elias?” Saffron asked carefully, but she lost her voice as the cloaked figure looked over to her. 

All the assumptions she had made of the savage Dalish seemed to blow away in the face of this dainty and beautiful girl. Her coiled black hair was pulled tight into an intricate knot of braids, and her deep black skin reflected the sunlight in a healthy glow. The spread of her Dalish tattoos was like a tree taking bloom across her face and her soft amber eyes glowed with life and joy.

“Saffron.” Elias ran up to her, joy radiating from her expression as she came to pull Saffron closer. “This is my sister, this is Amalia.”

They had no family resemblance. Saffron would not be harsh enough to say that Elias was ugly, but this girl would play Andraste in her Exalted March, she would cry for justice and the whole of Thedas would cry with her. And now she turned her gaze on Saffron and beamed.

“You saved him!” Her voice was like the chiming of bells, musical and confident and so full of joy. She clasped Saffron’s hand tightly, her grip cold despite how warm and radiant she seemed. “I was so scared. I had no idea how I would find him, I’ve just been trying to get to the border, I’m so grateful.” 

Saffron had no idea what to say, that she almost hadn’t? That she had been there at the border to buy him without thinking. Her. Him? “Him?”

Elias’ expression faltered slightly and Amalia shook her head. “We need to get these shackles off.” She declared, picking up Elias’ hands. From here, now that she was looking, Saffron could see that the shackles had burnt more into the wrists, and spread an electric pattern of burns up Elias’ arms.

“Just freeze them, maybe they’ll break?” Elias offered, looking suddenly so very tired and much older than Saffron had assumed when she’d been dragged out from the cart.

“Won’t that hurt? I’d have to make them so cold…” Amalia’s fingers traced softly over the shackle, seeking out a seam in the ring of metal.

“I’ve burned them so badly… I don’t think it’ll matter.” Elias admitted and Saffron felt a knot of guilt form up under her breast. If she had been better equipped to defend them, a better fighter and better guardian, perhaps Elias wouldn’t have been so injured.

Amalia looked conflicted but did eventually nod, wrapping her fingers around the shackles and taking a deep breath. The air became cold again and Elias gave a grunt of pain as frost began to form around the metal bands. With the end of her staff Amalia shattered the fragile metal, letting the shackles finally fall to pieces on the ground.

Elias groaned slightly and shuddered, it took Saffron a moment to understand but muscular shoulders filled out Mihael’s robes, a few extra inches of height took the hem off the ground, and the voice falling through his mouth grew deep and his jaw squared out slightly. It was unmistakably Elias, but also unquestioningly male.

“The shackles turned you into a woman?” Saffron’s voice cracked, what a horrible torture to inflict on someone.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know how to say…” Now Elias was bashful, as if Saffron had not seen this man fight chained and naked in the desert and survive. 

“I’m so glad, I’m so glad we got them off.” Saffron offered, remembering the elfroot she still had stashed in her bag she pulled them out and offered them to Elias who relaxed entirely at the gift.

Elias began chewing the root to make a poultice and Amalia, despite her beautiful elven robes, tore them apart without thinking to make bandages. 

“Now we just need to return to the clan…” Elias said once his wrists had been wrapped thoroughly. “Where are they, have they moved close?”

Amalia looked away, shamefully. “They’re still by Starkhaven. They have decided it’s a good spot to stay out of the brewing wars…”

Elias nodded and it took Saffron a moment to realise she had been right. It would be too much of a risk to move the clan north like that. The legends of the brutal Antivan Dalish were not about the Free Marcher Dalish, and they obviously were far more prudent in action. Still, it meant the only family that had looked for him had been Amalia. She leaned in to push her shoulder against his, the soft and subtle gesture was popular among slaves in the Makris house. There was no proof of bumping into a person on purpose like a gesture might give, but it meant as much as a hug.

“It will be easier to return to Starkhaven now.” Elias finally stated, his body going loose as he relaxed backwards to lie on the ground and stare up at the sky. “With us both being able to use magic. We can take Saffron there.”

Saffron watched him, then bit her lip and turned her gaze to his beautiful sister. She was so sure Elias was lying about his clan accepting her, no matter what she had been a Tevinter flat-ear, and she would surely bring danger to them. Amalia’s eyes, though, were shining as she met Saffron’s gaze.

“Are you going to come with us?” She said, with a hopeful turn to her voice, she seemed delighted with the idea and it made Saffron forget how to speak for a moment.

“I don’t… have anywhere to go.” Saffron admitted softly, not sure what she should do in this situation. Wasn’t the smartest thing devoting herself to a Dalish clan? Even slavers were somewhat hesitant to sell Dalish elves, she’d seen the trouble with her own eyes and Elias. But they wouldn’t protect her, not from what must surely be coming. “I. I killed my Master. They will surely send people. I can’t--”

Elias’ hand fell gently on her shoulder and turned her towards him. “You killed your master, to protect me. Because he wanted to be my master too. The only way the two of us get to be _here_ is by killing him. If our clan won’t protect you, I will. And you haven’t seen what I can do yet.” He winked playfully and it really felt like meeting him all over again now that she was seeing him in his true body. His posture was easier and somehow he was even more graceful with his limbs at all the correct lengths.

“You would have to deal with hunters.” Saffron stated quietly, too afraid to be turned away, but sure if she didn’t dissuade them they would resent her for not warning them.

“They will have to deal with us.” Amalia said with her jaw set firmly. “The Dalish do not submit.”

“The… the last of the Elvhenan?” Saffron whispered, afraid she’d remembered their prayer wrong. Though the grin on Amalia’s face said that she had gotten it right.

“Never again shall we submit.” The other two echoed as they helped her up and took her with them into the woods.

*

“May I ask…” Saffron began, as they made camp later that night, farther down the river still from where any hunters might look for them. “About the tattoos? Yours? I know they mark you as Dalish, but…”

Amalia all but radiated joy at being asked and Elias looked slightly amused as he stoked a small smokeless fire he’d made to cook on. They had stolen a bow and arrow from one of the frozen hunters and Saffron had finally felt useful, picking off fish in the water with her arrows. She didn’t know how to prepare them, but Elias had taken the task of cleaning them with an ease that showed he did it often.

“The Vallaslin.” Amalia explained, gesturing to the tree spread across her face, even rooting down on her chin. “They show our dedication to our people and our gods. When each of us comes of age and proves we are worthy of being considered adults we are given our Vallaslin, dedicating us to one of the gods.”

“Which god are you dedicated to? U-unless. Is it private? Should I not have asked?” Saffron felt doubt creeping in on her. If her only rescue was the Dalish she was so afraid of offending them.

“We tattoo it on our faces, Saf, it’s probably the least private we could be about it.” Elias said dryly as he set the fish to cook. 

Saffron blushed at him not only using her name, but a nickname at that. 

“I have dedicated myself to the goddess Mythal.” Amalia stated, her face glowing with firelight and joy. She’d not strayed far from Elias or even bothered to hide her joy at reuniting with him. 

“The goddess of justice, right?” Saffron asked, hoping she had remembered correctly from Elias’ tale. “Who made one of the moons?”

“Both of the moons probably.” Amalia said with a laugh, though Elias rolled his eyes like they’d had that conversation before and he had not agreed with her. “And she’s also the goddess of love and motherhood. Her justice is the firm but gentle hand of motherhood. Her animal depictions have her as a dragon and she stole the memory of the Void from Andruil which had robbed her of her sanity and she--”

“ _Lethallan._ ” Elias said gently and Amalia covered her mouth with an expression that would have carried a flush if her dark cheeks in the black of night had not hidden it. 

“I’m sorry. I love the legends. I’ve spent so much of my time in the clan…” Amalia offered with an awkward shyness that made her all the more real and beautiful. “I forget myself.”

“I want to hear the stories.” Saffron put in, to try and comfort her and urge her to tell more. She really did want to learn more and more about the Dalish stories and lives.

“Though maybe we can work on telling them in order?” Elias ribbed his sister gently, glee in his eyes. Saffron knew he would be haunted by what had happened to him, but through all of this he had worked so hard to be jovial and strong. She hoped she could be there for him when it finally came to head.

“The story of Andruil, then…” Amalia settled in to explain the tale, “I think that’s a good place to start. Andruil is Mythal’s daughter, the goddess of the hunt. She is a brutal and frightening goddess, and she would hunt beast and man alike.” Amalia gestured as she told her story, and Saffron guessed that she probably told stories to children often.

“But, she became bored with mortal sport.” Amalia continued, hopping to her feet. “And as is her want, her point of being, as the goddess of the hunt, she hunted. And she found a new target. The Forgotten Ones used to stalk the Abyss and she sought them there, crafting armour from the Abyss and weapons from darkness itself, she went mad. As she hunted she spread plague and misery through her lands. 

“It wasn’t until finally her mother, great Mythal, transformed into a dragon and fought her. The battle was terrible and haunting, a daughter being brought down by her mother.” Amalia clasped her hands and looked down mournfully to sell the moment and Saffron couldn’t help but smile at the pageantry of it all. “Finally, drawing the battle to an end, Mythal stole her daughter’s memories of how to get to the Abyss. Robbed of her hunting ground, Andruil was also robbed of her madness and peace was able to return to her people.”

Saffron clapped despite herself when Amalia finished her story, drawing a wry grin from Elias who plucked a skewered fish from the fire and tasted it gingerly.

“But… what are the Forgotten Ones?” Saffron’s brow knit together as she pondered that.

“We don’t remember.” Elias said with sarcastic good humour.

“But…”

“There were other gods too, once.” Amalia nudged Elias slightly with her foot to chide him, but took the fish when it was offered to her and sat back down. “We know they existed, we think they were at war with our gods. When Fen’Harel tricked the gods into being trapped in the Beyond, he trapped the Forgotten Ones in the Abyss. But we don’t remember anything else about them.”

“And the Abyss and Beyond are..?” Saffron prodded, hoping she didn’t seem too ignorant.

“The Beyond is the Fade to shemlen, the Abyss is… nothing. Nowhere. The embodiment of an absence.” Elias joked as he handed a fish to Saffron as well. 

She nibbled the fish, and while it lacked spice or refinement it tasted wonderful. It was truly the first meal she’d ever had free, and she had provided it herself. Her chest felt tight at the thought of it and she focused on eating as the other two continued to discuss their gods.

“My god is June, it is debated as to whether he is Mythal’s son, or if he created himself. Because he’s the god of crafts, the idea is that he has created creation, even down to making himself.” Elias chimed in happily, and Saffron wished she had asked him more in the beginning of their journey, he seemed so happy to talk. “He and his wife Sylaise taught the people how to make things, bows and homes and clothing. She taught us how to keep a home and farm food and he taught us what to build with what we’d gathered and grown.”

“That almost seems tame for you…” Saffron commented softly and Elias sat up with a curious expression so she continued. “I just mean that you craft lightning in your hands! You strangled your slaver to death with your chains--”

“ _What!_ ” Amalia made a distressed squawk and Elias held up his hands as if to fend off scrutiny, then for Saffron to continue as he seemed to enjoy hearing about himself a bit. So silly he tried to play shy when she found out he was a boy.

“It just seems like you should be Elgar’nan, the father and the first and vengeance.” Saffron bit her lip, flushing slightly. 

“I didn’t. I didn’t think much about vengeance, when I came of age.” Elias admitted with a slight stammer. “Things have changed. Since Starkhaven.”

Amalia reached out to touch his arm, hesitating slightly above the bandages. “Elias. What happened? How did you let yourself get _captured_?” her voice cracked slightly as she asked.

Elias watched her hand for a moment, then looked away and took a breath. “I went into the city. I wanted to see… to meet. Someone who didn’t know me. And I guess I met a lot of folks I didn’t know. I woke up briefly to money changing hands. Something in my drink. Then I was in the cart.” He set his fish aside and clasped his hands together, knuckles standing out on knobby fingers of long hands. He was so unmistakably male in every gesture and act that it seemed so absurd to her that she had once seen this man as a girl.

“The slavers had been sent to find an elven mage.” Saffron offered, though she had no idea if knowing he had been targeted would help. That he couldn’t have helped what he’d been, they were seeking someone like him out. “It could have been either of you.”

“No.” Elias laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “No, only I am stupid enough to wander alone into a shemlen city.”

“Elias. _Why_ would you risk so much?” Amalia moved her hand up to Elias’ shoulder and squeezed slightly.

He laughed, shook his head and shook himself free, stepping up and to the other side of the fire to build it back up. His fingers were trembling slightly, diminishing the grace with which he poked the fire back into a proper heat source. “I. I have to be alone in the clan. Because of. Everything. You know-- they-- S-Saf it’s not bad there, I swear it’s not. _I_ just never… fit. I never should have expected they’d come for me, when I know I don’t really belong.”

“Why would they not want you?” Saffron felt outraged and terrified all at once. She had risked everything she had ever known for this man, who had struggled and fought and kept his chin up through deep horrors, and his people felt there was something wrong with him? She wanted to depend on these people, but she could not help the resentment bubbling at Elias’ distress. 

“They want you, Elias! They just. Listen, it’s not so simple. _I_ know they’re wrong, but you know what disagreeing with tradition really means. We have to work so hard to preserve it.” Amalia’s voice seemed to shake slightly as she cast her eyes down into the fire. “It’s not right.”

“The problem with me is that I am not always a man, as you saw before. It takes magic for me to maintain this shape. And on top of that I have no interest in taking a wife. It all made sense when I was going to be a wife, but then being male put a knot in the arrow.” Elias cast his fingers through his hair with a frustrated groan of pain and despair. “If you are content to continue the elven bloodline and keep the Dalish ways they’ll have no problems with you.”

“Elias.” Saffron said softly, expressing her sympathy before even thinking of his words. She wrapped her arms around him carefully and felt him slowly relax in her arms. She knew of men who had been born women, and those the other way around, Tevinter hardly smiled at people of the like, but some had managed to gain power and prestige among the Magistrate. As a slave though? Saffron felt secure suddenly in her decision to save him from Minrathos. He would have been tortured, never killed at such a price they were asking for him, but forced in the wrong body and punished into the wrong behaviour it would have been torture just the same. “I’m… with you. I don’t… I don’t know about the rest but. I’m with you.”

Gently, a cool hand rested on her shoulder as Amalia approached and wrapped her arms around Elias as well. “She’s right. We’re with you, brother. And we’ll figure this out.”

“Lethallan…” Elias’ voice cracked and then he spoke no more. The three of them curled up together against a mossy tree and finally got some true sleep.


End file.
